Classic Poem

Long was the conflict, but now 'tis done:
Light-hearted fancies are mine no more.
Pain like a sportsman, hides with his gun
And shoots the fledglings trying to soar.

Terrible sportsman, bagging game!
Never, it seems, canst thou have enough:
Well could I join in thy curse, and exclaim,
The old Bird is a world too tough.